


when you give that look to me (I better look back carefully)

by mjonesing (klassmartin)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Banter, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, I’m so sorry, Mutually Assured Satisfaction, Not your typical Friends With Benefits fic, Porn With Plot, actually the plot comes later if people are interested, but don’t tell MJ that, if you squint and turn your head sideways
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/pseuds/mjonesing
Summary: ”You don't have to decide now. It's not like I'm going anywhere. Just… Think about it." Michelle pinches the last of his muffin and pops it into her mouth. If she mildly exaggerates the way she licks her fingers, he definitely notices it."I'm thinking you woke up this morning and decided to mess with me, and thought the funniest way to do that would be saying you want to have sex with me in the middle of our favourite hangout."Michelle suppresses the urge to laugh. "Well, I know it's been a while for you. Maybe I just feel sorry for you.""I'd believe that if the last time you bought up my sex life you hadn't thrown a gift card for porn at my face."—-Or: So you're attracted to your best friend - now what? (Spoilers: you fuck. For Science.)
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 122
Kudos: 171





	1. Flustered

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently you guys were interested in this? So... Here. Have at my dirty little secret fic. 
> 
> Title from Sleeping With a Friend by Neon Trees (I wonder why...)
> 
> To @jmsjssc on Tumblr, I hope this gets you through the weekend.
> 
> And to @michellesbohh, who has already read this after some casual harassment so probably won’t see this note; you’re the worst (and also the best.)

"I think we should have sex."

Peter chokes, coffee shooting out of his nose. Michelle passes him a napkin and very calmly leans back in her armchair, taking a delicate sip of her tea. His face is bright red and he's dabbing at the stain on his sweater, resolutely avoiding her keen eyes. It's cute, how flustered he is from the prospect of sleeping with her, like he hasn't even considered it in the five years they've been friends.

After a very long and perplexed pause, he's able to glance at her long enough to see she's not laughing.

"Better?" she asks. He nods. "I'm going to say it again, but this time I'm warning you so you don't continue to make a fool of yourself."

"Please, MJ, _please_ do not say it again." Peter's knee bounces erratically and he tries to stop it by weighing it down with the other, but that just makes his entire lower body shake. He looks around the coffee shop, checking for anyone snooping. "Believe me, I heard what you said."

"And?"

"And why are you asking? I thought we were friends." He quirks an eyebrow. "Unless... Are you saying you don't want to be just friends?"

"I'm saying that I think it would be an enjoyable experience." Michelle props her feet up on the low table, fiddling with the tea strainer. "Do you remember last week at Betty's party? When we drank too much and had to be escorted home by Ned?"

"I remember we went," he hedges, "I don't remember much of what happened."

Michelle sighs and makes sure to catch his eye so he knows she's telling the truth. "What happened is you kissed me."

"I -" Peter's leg increases in tempo. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, since I kissed you back." She shrugs one shoulder. "It was nice. We were just fooling around -"

"We fooled around?" Peter goes pale, abandoning his coffee to lean towards her. "I am _so_ sorry, MJ, that was -"

"Calm down. I meant we were just being stupid."

"Oh." Peter exhales in relief, then frowns. "You remembered this whole time?"

She presses her lips together. "I remembered the other day, when you bought pizza over."

"Is that why you went to bed early?"

"I might have been a little thrown by it."

"W-What else did we do?" Peter's gaze is heavier now, and as she remembers the little flashes of memory, she wishes she'd taken off her scarf.

"We kissed." She can almost feel the way his hands had danced over the bare skin of her legs. "We made out. Harmless, really."

Peter smirks, and she wants to slap the cockiness right out of him. "Can't be that harmless if you're now proposing we sleep together."

Michelle rolls her eyes. "If you're going to be mean about it -"

"I'm sorry." Peter chuckles. "I just found out I made out with my best friend, I'm still processing."

"Look, it doesn't have to be a big deal. You can say no and we can carry on as we've always been. I won't be offended."

"I'm not saying no, I just…" Peter gives her that look he gets when he's getting really into his feelings. Michelle usually hates it because what he says next always makes her feel trapped in her own skin. "You're important to me, and I don't want anything to screw that up."

"I'm not asking you out, Peter. It's not that serious." She takes another sip of her tea, trying to calm the nerves that are kicking up a storm in her gut. "Sex doesn't have to a big deal."

Peter looks so on edge that he might just take off. "No, but sex with you is… Are you suggesting some kind of friends-with-benefits arrangement?"

"Hell no," she says immediately. "I'm saying that right now, I've tried a little bit of the wine and I'm interested in exploring the others at the tasting. Whether I think the wine is good is another matter."

He laughs, the metaphor relaxing him a little. "Are you saying you don't think I'll be any good?"

"That remains to be seen." She gives him a coy smile over her mug. "You'll have to prove it."

Peter's eyes flicker down to her lips and he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. When he speaks, he sounds mostly amused. "I can't believe I'm actually considering this."

"You don't have to decide now. It's not like I'm going anywhere. Just… Think about it." Michelle pinches the last of his muffin and pops it into her mouth. If she mildly exaggerates the way she licks her fingers, he definitely notices it.

"I'm thinking you woke up this morning and decided to mess with me, and thought the funniest way to do that would be saying you want to have sex with me in the middle of our favourite hangout."

Michelle suppresses the urge to laugh. "Well, I know it's been a while for you. Maybe I just feel sorry for you."

"I'd believe that if the last time you bought up my sex life you hadn't thrown a gift card for porn at my face."

This time, Michelle can't hold the laughter back. "Oh yeah. That was funny."

"And greatly appreciated."

Checking her watch, she quickly finishes the last dregs of her tea and grabs her bag, Peter getting up as she prepares to leave. "I have to get back," she says, "So just let me know."

Peter goes to hug her goodbye like he always does, but the movement is stilted and they both seem unsure on how to resume physical contact. In the end, she just rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair, throwing a quick goodbye over her shoulder before walking into the blissfully cool air to calm the sudden rush of blood in her cheeks.

* * *

Michelle doesn't hear from Peter for two days.

While not completely out of the norm, its timing could not be more suspicious, and she starts to worry that he'd been right; bringing sex into the equation has ruined them, and she's about to lose one of few people in this world that she genuinely cares for.

She's expecting takeout so doesn't think much of the knock at the door that Friday night. She'd been prepared for a night of too much Chinese food and falling asleep in front of the telly, so she's in quite possibly the worst outfit she owns when she opens the door to see Peter, who gives her an awkward wave and tries too hard not to fidget.

"Oh." Michelle tugs at the hem of her college hoodie. "Sorry. Hi. I thought you were food."

Peter holds up his other hand to show a bulging paper bag. "I bumped into the guy in the lobby, figured there was no use in both of us coming up."

Michelle steps aside to let him in. When he walks past her, she can smell his body wash, the hair at the back of his neck damp from the shower. "I hope you tipped him for that."

"Of course." Peter looks around the room, points to the paused screen on the telly. "CSI?"

"Law and Order." She walks into the kitchen to grab him a plate and a glass.

"Calling out inaccuracies?"

"Always." Michelle takes a seat on the sofa, leaning against the arm with her feet propped up beside him. "Wine?"

Peter's mouth curls down. "Nah, I'll grab a cider."

Michelle makes herself busy with splitting the food between them and Peter comes back with a bottle from her fridge, a blanket thrown over his arm. When he sits back down he covers both of their laps with it, accepting his plate and tucking in.

Michelle glances over her food to him, chewing on her lip. "How have you been?"

"Good. Slammed with work. Never thought I'd miss being in education but now…" Peter takes a swig from his bottle. "How's you research going?"

She groans, throwing her head back. "It's not. Between teaching and shifts at the bar there's not much time to live, nevermind work on my PhD."

Peter pats her ankle comfortingly. "Sorry, MJ, that sucks."

She downs a little bit too much of her wine. "It does," she agrees, "But talking about it is giving in to what it wants. Lets just watch tv and get drunk."

Peter laughs and settles further into the couch, and they watch a couple of episodes before they have a pleasant buzz going, their dinner long finished. Michelle gets up to grab another bottle of wine and returns with a beer for Peter, and as she fills her glass she notices the easy silence between them has shifted slightly. When she looks over her shoulder she sees Peter watching her, something unfamiliar that she's not used to receiving from him.

"What?" she asks around a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

Peter shakes his head and turns his attention to the bottle in his hands, picking at the label with his short nails. She tucks her feet back under the blanket and pulls at the hole in the knee of her leggings.

The tension gets stronger, and suddenly the alcohol that had pleasantly been making her skin tingle is curdling in her stomach.

They both speak at the same moment.

"I'm sorry if I've made this weird."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

They both frown. Michelle manages to speak first. "What did you say?"

Peter shifts closer, her toes now pressed against his outer thigh. "You told me to think about it - your proposal - so I did. And then I couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. So I took a day to give it some time - look at it logically, you know, but that just made it worse because then I was thinking about it _and_ missing you and -"

"Peter," she interrupts impatiently. "Get to the point."

"Yes. My answer is yes."

All the air escapes Michelle's lungs at once. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure." Peter's expression is sincere, serious. He looks… Ready for this, and she suddenly realises how he must have felt the other day when she'd proposed this; caught off-guard, overwhelmed, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Okay." She blows her hair out of her eyes and nods to herself, before grabbing her wine glass and downing the lot.

"Are you alright, MJ?" Peter's hand is on her calf and it's warm, even through the blanket. "If you've changed your mind -"

"No," she assures him, "It's not that, I just… When I didn't hear from you I figured your answer was no and now you're saying yes, and it's thrown me a little bit."

"We don't have to do this now," he says softly. "There's no expectations. We're friends before anything else, so we can just talk and it'll be a 'maybe one day' thing for when we're both ready, if we still want to, of course -"

Michelle leans towards him, presses a finger to his mouth. "You talk too much."

"I like to think it's part of my charm," Peter says when she withdraws her hand. She tugs at the blanket so she can move into the space next to him, slipping a leg to rest over his knee, and Peter twists to face her properly, one arm thrown across the back of the sofa.

"Should we - Should we discuss any ground rules? Preferences? Negotiation of kinks?" Peter's hand shakes as he rests it on her thigh. Michelle smiles but she's too focused to find him funny.

"We can, if you want to. Or we could just… Go for it. See what happens."

Peter swallows thickly and Michelle watches the way his muscles move with the action. She has the sudden desire to taste his skin, to find out how he smells when he's pressed against her. Her hands come up to hold his face, and they both stop breathing as she leans in, slowly closing the space between them.

It's a gentle brush of their lips, the kind you could call an innocent mistake, but the way his grip tightens over her leggings is anything but.

She opens her eyes to see his eyelashes quivering against his cheeks, their noses brushing as she forces oxygen into her lungs. Peter's hand slides up to her waist and tugs her closer, his lips more insistent this time, their teeth clashing. They both pull back and Michelle rubs the tender spot on her lip, and Peter looks thoroughly embarrassed until she laughs, easing the uncomfortable atmosphere as they try to settle into this unexplored territory.

"Is this weird?" he asks. "It feels a little bit weird."

Michelle relaxes into the sofa cushions, resting her head on his arm. "It's unfamiliar. Give it a chance."

Peter's fingers flex against her hip and she grabs his hand, linking it with her own. The reassurance seems to work, as he bends over and kisses her again. He relaxes into it and it's nice, their lips moving languidly together. After a couple of seconds she forgets this is even something they're just starting out with, content to focus on the warmth of his skin, how his hand feels tangled in her hair, the way his tongue traces her lips in a silent request for more.

Her hand trails up his chest to trace along the top of his spine. It’s pleasant, having him so close to her, their chests barely touching but his body heat steadily warming her up. She thinks if he told her now this was all he wanted that she'd be perfectly okay with it, as long as she gets to do just this for a little bit longer.

But then his hand slips back down to her waist and under her hoodie, and it flicks a switch in her she didn't know was off.

Just his bare touch on her skin is enough to set her alight, and she surges forward, pressing him back until she can swing her leg the whole way over his lap. Her hands tug at his hair, his shirt, searching for more places to explore. He gasps into her mouth and both of his hands slide across the small of her back before slipping his fingertips past her waistband.

She feels the exact moment he realises she's not wearing underwear.

Michelle tears herself away from his face to relieve the burning in her lungs, and Peter wastes no time in dragging his lips across her jaw, mouthing at her long neck. She tilts her head to give him more space and he responds by pushing her hips so she's flush against him. She can feel his chest move with each breath, the way his muscles flex as he trails his hands higher, higher, until he reaches the elastic band of her bralette. She grasps his jaw to pull him back to her lips, the kiss filthy and hot and dangerous.

Peter pushes at her hoodie in frustration until she pulls it off herself, his blown pupils instantly settling on her chest. He tucks a finger into one of the straps and toys with it. She presses her lips tight together, searching for an ounce of patience as he takes his time, studying how she looks straddling his lap, breathing heavily from all the things he seems to be incapable of doing right now.

The moment stretches too long. Michelle tugs at the hem of his shirt to detract from the cold slip of being self-conscious that makes her want to hide away. Peter lets her pull it off and when he emerges from the fabric his eyes are back on her own. The way he looks at her makes her heartbeat race between her legs; it's like he's never known desire before, is overcome with _wanting_ her. His chest is flushed and she runs her hands over it, confidence restored.

"So I think you definitely gave it a chance," she says breathlessly, "What's the verdict?"

"I'm trying to decide," he replies slowly, licking his lips, "Should I fuck you here, or in the bedroom?"

Michelle thinks she might pass out with the wave of arousal that slams into her.

"We could do both?"

Peter groans, grasping her thighs as she grinds her hips against him. "I've changed my mind. This is a terrible idea. I'm never gonna recover from that."

Her smirk is predatory. He bucks mindlessly up into her and the friction makes her heart rate stutter. Pressing herself against him once more, she leaves a trail of kisses from the corner of his mouth and down the line of his throat, her teeth grazing his collarbone. He holds her hips so tightly it's almost painful, but he uses the grip to move her against the hardening length in his jeans, her breathless moans makes his skin damp as she searches out the places that tease him the most.

She picks up on his rhythm enough that he lets her take over, smoothing his hands up to her breasts. His thumb brushes over her nipple through the thin fabric still clinging to her, and she hums her approval, breaking away to let him peel it off. His mouth instantly goes in to lave over the new skin and Michelle throws her head back, hands in his hair again to guide him to her favourite spots. His tongue traces along the underside of her left breast while his hand plays with her right.

"Peter," she sighs, "I think this is the best idea I've ever had."

She feels the air leave his nose as he chuckles against her skin. "I strongly concur. Even better than your idea to make me buy silk bedding."

"It's better for your hair," she says. "Plus every… Every time I stayed over you gave me that awful cotton blend that made me itch."

When she glances down he's already looking up at her, clearly enjoying his current task of leaving marks in her skin. It's so erotic that she scrambles out of his lap, no longer able to continue when there are clothes in the way. She holds her hand out and he lets her pull him to his feet, tugging him until he's close enough for her kiss as she makes quick work of his zipper. He presses up on his toes to kiss her more insistently and she thinks it's the most adorable thing she's ever experienced. It's almost enough to distract her from her mission, but his fingers grope at her ass. They're so close to where she wants him that she groans in frustration, biting at the cushion of his lips when he has the nerve to find the sound funny.

Michelle pushes the denim down as far as she can until Peter kicks them off, lacking in any grace, but she finds the desperation cute. She takes the opportunity to step out of her own, and when she looks up she realises they're both standing in front of each other, completely naked, for the very first time.

It's weird. There's nothing to filter it, nothing to hide behind or cover up. In one glance she can see the wide set of his shoulders and the shape of his calves and the cut of his pubic hair. The chest she's just spent so long exploring looks firm, and even though she can't see it, she knows from casual observations over the years that he has a nice butt. The lamp light glows against his skin and draws attention to the tan lines around his arms from the summer. A burn from their latest foray into baking a few weeks ago is a dark angry red, and she can see a scar on his ribs and another along his hip bone that she doesn't know the stories for; even now, after being best friends for so long.

"Wow." Peter's eyes run over her figure but settle on her face, where she's trying to suppress a sudden case of the giggles. "Five years later and I'm only just finding out where your birthmark is."

It's possibly the stupidest thing he could have said, but it breaks the tension and they both collapse into fits of laughter.

Peter approaches her with that easy smile of his, and he links their fingers so their hands hang together in the last of the space between them. Michelle's laughter eases off and she takes stock of the moment, both about to jump that final hurdle but savouring it. It's not awkward, like she might have assumed. It feels warm, easy, the way it always feels when they hang out. There's an undercurrent of something more, something desperate and wanting, but it's overshadowed by that thing that has always made them Peter and Michelle.

"Bathroom." She blinks and steps away. "Condoms are in the bathroom."

"Okay." Peter looks between her and the door. "Do you want me to go, or…"

"Yeah. Yes. Uh, second drawer, next to the tampons."

Peter nods and walks quickly into the bathroom, and Michelle looks around the room, trying to decide where will be best to do this. She contemplates the sofa, but past experience has taught her that can sometimes lead to more problems than solutions, and her coffee table probably won't take their weight. She entertains the idea of the wall for a second longer than she should, but she shakes her head, relegating it for another time.

Bedroom it is.

By the time Peter comes back with the box, she's leaning back into the mattress, her ankles gently crossed. "In here, doofus," she calls, and she bites her lip when he bounds in, suddenly all twitchy with anticipation.

"Fuck."

Peter is rooted to the spot as she spreads her legs, grinning in delight as his jaw hangs open.

Just to mess with him, she sucks a finger into her mouth and presses it against her throbbing clit, exaggerating a throaty moan that has him buckling at the knees. He crawls closer until he's within reach for her to grab his face and pull it to her own, licking into his mouth as the air grows thick with the need to get off together. One of his arms wraps around her waist while his hand massages her inner thigh, letting them get achingly close but not quite where she wants him.

"Peter," she growls against his lips, and he drags his smile down her chest and across her stomach, kissing along the imprint left behind by her leggings.

She relaxes back, propped up by her elbows, sure that now he's going to give her what she wants, finally.

Instead, he blows a loud raspberry just below her ribs, right where she's the most ticklish.

She squeals and instantly tries to push his face away, but his grip around her waist traps her against him, his laughter washing over her as she screams his name for the wrong reason.

"Get off!" she demands, voice breaking with a desperate laugh. Peter lifts his head to grin at her like a little boy, and she pokes his side with her toes. "That was really mean."

"I'm sorry," he says unapologetically. "As recompense, I'll stay down here until I've made you come twice."

She opens her mouth to bite back a retort but his finger strokes down the length of her, brushing deliciously over her clit. Instead, her back hits the mattress and she grips fiercely at the sheets as his tongue runs along her inner thigh. Peter eases a finger inside her and his moan vibrates through her skin, drowning out the whine that escapes her as he pumps it slowly.

He pulls it out completely, and she glares down at him only to see him press it into his mouth. Her thighs quiver against his shoulders.

"Fuck, Michelle," he says hoarsely, his finger slipping through her arousal to enter her, another pushing in alongside it. "Are you really that excited for this?"

She sucks in a breath at the use of her full name, dizzy with the need to orgasm. She wriggles her hips, unable to look away from the ravenous way he watches his fingers disappear inside of her. "To the left." She groans when he slips over her g-spot. "Again."

His fingers curl and she grasps at the hand wrapped around her thigh. "Come on, Peter," she goads, "You can do better than that."

"What, no ‘please’?"

"I'll say whatever you like if you just - if you do something more useful with that mouth."

Peter laughs under his breath, lacing their fingers together. "Okay, okay. How do you want it?"

She moans as he picks up the pace. "Side-to-side, hard and fast. And don't you dare stop."

"As you wish." Peter presses a quick kiss to her hip and then flattens his tongue right on top of her clit, following her instructions perfectly. She screams silently and grips his hair, pressure mounting inside of her as he wrecks her in moments. There's just seconds before she hits her crescendo, and she pulls his hand up to her breast, arching into the touch as he tweaks at her nipple. Her hips begin to buck against him and he perseveres, his fingers hammering into her now, and she's overloaded with all the points of pleasure he's hitting, over and over until -

In the last second, he _sucks_ , and she comes with a very loud and very meaningful, "Fuck, Peter!"

He eases back to flash her a grin, his chin glistening, her thighs twitching as she recovers. "You good for a second?"

She's lost the ability to form words, so she nods, the slow, steady pump of his fingers interrupted only by the introduction of a third. Her walls flutter around him but the stretch is delightful, and she closes her eyes to focus on it, to feel every ridge and knuckle slide inside of her.

She flaps her hand at him blindly until she collides with his shoulder, and she lazily cracks one eye open to tap him again. "C'm'ere," she mutters. "Don't stop, just want to…"

Peter eases off his knees and climbs up to hover over her, his expression inquisitive. She points to her mouth and he laughs, kissing her tenderly once, twice, thrice; again and again as he works her back up. The promise of another orgasm jolts the heaviness from her bones and she runs her palms down his spine, traces the spaces between his ribs, scratches her nails across his chest. He groans into her mouth and grinds against her, his thumb pressing against where she's still over-sensitive, making her hiss out a breath.

He immediately pulls back. "Sorry, MJ, are you okay?"

"I'm more than okay." She leans up to kiss the tip of his nose. "Just be gentle with her, the last guy she had over did such a good job that it's taking a bit to recover. But this… This is good - this is _great_. All those years tinkering has made your hands very impressive."

Peter laughs. "Wow, so now I know the best way to make you chatty is to give you an orgasm."

"Whereas I can't seem to shut you up." He strokes gently over her clit and she hums her approval. "Little bit faster."

"Speaking of shutting up," he says coyly. "I seem to remember you saying something about using the magic word…"

"You are insufferable." Peter slows his pace and she sighs loudly, affecting her voice to raise an octave. "Pretty please, Mr Parker, sir. Please can we go faster?"

Peter drops his face into her neck and bites on the soft tissue next to her shoulder. "That was the most unattractive thing I've heard anyone say."

Michelle reaches down and wraps her hand around him, stroking him without conviction. "Seem okay with it to me."

"That's because it's heavily outvoted by, just… Everything else going on right now."

She extracts his hand from inside of her, wrapping it around himself, controlling his pace as he fucks into his own fist with her arousal. His moan is guttural and she locks her ankles behind his back, pulling him closer until she can feel his head slide over her pelvic bone.

"Michelle, fuck, you're killing me here."

"You know what would be even better than this?" She presses her cheek against his and whispers in his ear, "If you were inside me."

His body quivers against her and she grazes her teeth over his earlobe just to see if he'll do it again. He drops a kiss to her collarbone, her neck, her cheek and mouth, before leaving to grab the forgotten box of condoms. 

The air is cold against her overheated skin now he's gone and she shivers, anticipation building as he rolls the latex over himself.

"Hurry up," she whines when he isn't back to her within seconds, and he rolls his eyes, deliberately taking his time to close the box properly and dispose of the wrapper. He makes to take the box back to the bathroom and she pounces, his back hitting her wall, his hands squeezing her ass.

Michelle kisses him, hard and angry, directing him back to the bed until she can push him onto the mattress. He looks up at her as she glares. "You've lost missionary privileges," she says as she straddles his lap.

"Such a hardship," he tuts, eyes laser-focused on where she is grinding against him, the friction so good that she almost forgets what she really wants.

Peter's fingers flex against her thighs and she realises her teasing has got him right on the edge. She lifts herself up just enough that she can press him inside, and then she sinks down, in no mood for taking it slow. She rocks her hips, one palm pressed against his stomach and the other playing with her breast. Peter moans her name and she winks at him, making a show of touching herself.

"You are the worst best friend," he groans, "Ned would never be such a tease."

"Are you talking from experience? Because I'd be interested in hearing about that."

"Ew, no, he's like my brother! Stop talking about Ned!"

"You bought him up!"

"Something I'm really regretting right now!"

Michelle reaches down between her legs and feels him slide out of her, and Peter thrusts up so hard that she falls forward, landing on his chest.

"Shit, Michelle, I know I joked about you killing me but now I'm sure that's your goal."

She pushes him back into her entrance and snaps her hips forward, his length burrowing inside of her, his pelvic bone grinding against her. She joins their lips for a long, sensual kiss and they move together, the pace starting slow but increasing until they're panting into each other's mouths, both approaching their release. Michelle pushes the hair that's escaped her ponytail away from her face and Peter's hands dance over her torso, not capable of finding a place to settle.

"Please say you're close," he moans, "I'm so - I'm gonna -"

Michelle grabs one of his hands and presses it between her legs. "Just like before," she says, "I wanna come with you."

Peter grits his teeth and his fingertips rub against her at a punishing speed. Her voice breaks as she moans and she starts to lose their rhythm, the orgasm building that little bit higher until it threatens to topple.

"Fuck, Peter, right there, I'm -"

Michelle buries her face into his neck and nearly screams with the force of it, Peter's hips thrusting up into her twice before he groans through his release. Her elbows buckle and she falls into his chest, his free arm wrapping around her to secure her. Every muscle in her body trembles, Peter somehow managing to keep stroking her clit, extending the crescendo that's still washing over her. When she can't stand it anymore she taps his shoulder and he melts into the bed, exhausted and sated.

"If I'm suffocating you… You'll have to push me." Her tongue feels like lead and her bones have lost all structural integrity. Her lips are brushing against his throat but she can't even find the energy to kiss the spot, quite happy to stay here forever, feeling him twitch inside of her as he begins to soften.

"That was…"

"Adequate?"

Michelle smiles. "I was going to say fine."

"Yeah, I guess." Peter's still breathing heavily, tracing circles over her hip bone. "If you're into glimpsing through all of time and space."

"Space is overrated."

"I prefer a nice quiet park."

"Eh, I'd rather the orgasm." Michelle summons just enough energy to rest her chin below his collarbone. "Maybe a silent library."

Peter snorts. "I'm not gonna ask which you'd prefer out of those two."

"It's the library," she says anyway, stroking the wild hair of his eyebrow. "Unless there's the option of an orgasm in the library, in which case... Probably still just the library."

"Can't be desecrating your sacred ground," Peter agrees. They fall into an easy silence for a moment and Michelle tries not to think of what comes next, tries to focus on the feel of his heart beating in his chest. She needs to get up, use the toilet, probably shower the sticky layer of sweat off. Ten more seconds, she thinks, ten more seconds of this, and then it's time to get on with things.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…

Peter shifts and slips out of her, and she feels hollow.

Five, four, three, two -

"I need to steal your shower," Peter says reluctantly.

One.

"Not before me." Michelle rolls off of him, wincing as their skin peels apart.

"We could shower together?"

She grabs two towels and doesn't bother looking over her shoulder. "Fine, but don't touch me."

"I'm too tired to try anything else." Peter follows her out of the bedroom, but she slams the door in his face before he can get into the bathroom.

"I need to pee," she says through the door, "And we both need to rehydrate."

"Got it!" She hears Peter walk away and falls heavily onto the toilet, the porcelain cool against the warm spots of her thighs where he'd gripped her tightly. She sorts herself out and turns on the shower, opening the door so he knows he can come in. Peter enters moments after and passes a glass to her, taking it when she's finished in four steady gulps. He shuffles in behind her and grabs her body wash, plucks the loofah from the hook, handing them both to her as she makes way for him to get under the spray.

"I like your cap," he says as he runs his fingers through his hair. She touches it absently, tucking a stray curl back inside of it. "The rubber ducks give it a touch of sophistication."

Michelle grabs him a shampoo bottle from the shelf and continues scrubbing at her arms. "Are you being nice in the hopes I'll let you crash here?"

Peter pouts, suds dripping down his forehead. "MJ, I'm _so_ tired."

"So am I! Which means I'm inclined to agree, as long as you help me change my sheets."

Peter ducks his head back under the spray, and when he closes his eyes, Michelle treats herself to the view of the water sliding down his body. "I can just sleep on the sofa, like I always do."

"Of course you can. Just because we slept together doesn't mean you get to enjoy the benefits of my overly expensive mattress. You're still helping me with the sheets though."

"Fine, but I'm not making you breakfast."

"Yes, you are."

"Yeah, I am."


	2. Desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are again. Me back on my bullshit. You giving up your precious time to read my bullshit.
> 
> Seriously though, the response to the first chapter was incredible and made this grumpy little heart grow three sizes. Thank you.
> 
> Love to @michellesbohh for all the support and passive aggressive notes.

There isn't a single person in the entire world that would tell him that sleeping with his best friend was a smart move.

So he doesn't tell anyone.

"You're being weird," Ned says instead of a greeting the next weekend, crashing through the door of their apartment with an abundance of paper bags. "Why are you sitting in the dark by yourself?”

Peter looks up from the tangle of wires and circuit boards in front of him, the light attached to his magnified glasses swinging around to spotlight his friend. "It's night time already?"

Ned dumps the groceries and walks over to swipe the glasses off his face. "You look ridiculous in those."

"But I got all dressed up just for you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. You weren't answering your phone." Ned glares at him, walking backwards to the kitchen. "I had to carry all of that by myself."

Peter jumps over the back of the couch to help Ned with unpacking, opening the freezer to a pleasant huff of cool air. "What were you thinking for dinner?"

"MJ's working tonight and said we should swing by for wings night. You up for it?"

"Sure." Peter hides his flushed cheeks by taking an extra couple of seconds to put away the frozen peas. "Sounds super."

The rustling stops behind him and he turns to see Ned staring at him with a frown, hands paused halfway in the process of putting away the bread loaf. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Being weird."

"How? I said three words."

"You said them weirdly." Ned taps his chin with a soup can, then points it accusingly. "Have you been arguing with MJ again? I warned you both against that last game of Cluedo."

"She peeked at my cards when I got us refills! She's a cheat!" Peter pouts and picks up her favourite brand of tea leaves, throwing the box carelessly into the cupboard. "She doesn't deserve fancy tea."

"She didn't look at your cards, dude. I was sitting right there."

"You _would_ say that, as her co-conspirator."

Ned rolls his eyes and begins to fold up the empty bags. "Sure, Peter. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Food packed away, Peter changes his shirt and grabs his jacket, heading down to MJ's bar with the beginnings of something peculiar in his gut.

Ever since their game night, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about how she'd passed the die. Did her fingers linger? Did she touch him more than strictly necessary? The last thing he wants is to have led her on. The morning after their experiment, she'd woken him up with coffee and they'd watched bad morning tv until she'd kicked him out to get ready for work; a perfectly normal morning for them. She'd propped her feet up in his lap but that wasn't exactly unusual. Or was it some kind of hint? A signal?

He's still thinking about it when they duck through the aged, creaky door and into the dim light of the bar, the bass of a rock song vibrating through his shoes. Ned leads them straight to the bar, sighing dramatically as Michelle pokes out her tongue and finishes up with another customer.

"What's up your butt, Ned?" she asks when he sighs again with her approach.

"Peter's being weird."

His jaw drops. "Ned, give it a rest!"

Michelle frowns, leaning on the bar with her elbows. "Are you still being a sore loser? It's been three days, weirdo. Get over it."

"I am _not_ a sore loser, you looked at - you know what, nevermind. It doesn't matter. The point is, I'm not being weird."

She purses her lips, sharp eyes flickering over his face as she studies him. He shifts in his stool and fights to maintain eye contact.

Eventually, he blinks.

"Ned, be a dear and ask Freddie to get a move on in the kitchen." She nods her head towards the other end of the bar without ever looking away from Peter. "His break finished forty seconds ago."

Orders obeyed, Peter and Michelle are left together. She straightens up and pours out two amber shots, her silence deafening as she takes her time. He taps out an anxious rhythm, glancing around at the beginnings of the late night rush.

"You're so cute when you freak out about sleeping with me."

He almost falls off his chair.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what you're doing, right? Freaking out?" She nudges one shot glass closer. "Drink."

On autopilot, his hand picks up the glass and raises it to his lips. He swallows it down with a wince. "I am _not_ freaking out."

"You so are. You've got that crease that means your brain is exploding." She pokes him between the eyebrows and smirks. "We agreed this wasn't going to be a big deal."

"It isn't. It wasn't." He exhales heavily, slumping over the bar so he's a little closer. "I thought… I was worried you thought - What if we made a mistake?"

He sees the second she begins to shut down, shrinking away from him with that perfectly schooled expression that drives him crazy. "Is that what you think?"

"No! God no, MJ." He reaches out and grabs her hand before she's gone too far, begging her with wide eyes to stay with him. "I don't regret a second - fuck, how could I? It was… It was _great -_ but then my brain started overthinking it and I just… I don't want to ruin us. You're so important to me, MJ, and I couldn't bear if us sleeping together destroyed that."

"Oh." She still hesitates but she squeezes his hand, taking a half-step closer. "Well, we're fine, Peter. No problems over here."

"Good." He breathes a little easier. "There's none here, either. For the record."

Her lips twitch. Her eyebrow arches. "Oh, really? You're perfectly fine with knowing forevermore what it's like to be inside me? Completely okay with it never happening again?"

He swallows nervously, looking around quickly for Ned when she leans closer. "Yup."

"No problem with the possibility that everything you do from now on, I can picture you doing it naked?"

"That's creepy, MJ." He picks up the second shot and throws it back as her smirk grows. "I would never disrespect you in that way."

"Are you sure?" She presses her elbows together, her face so close he can feel her breathing, and his eyes dart down to her chest despite his determination not to. He's disappointed to see her bleach-stained shirt doesn't bag at the neck nearly as much as he wants it to. She barks out a laugh, breaking him from the spell she's willingly cast upon him. "I knew it. You're such a bad liar."

"So we're good?" he asks when she darts back to refill the shot glasses. She doesn't respond but does shimmy her hips, taking her own shot with a quick wink before Ned appears at his side once more.

"Freddie has been sufficiently scolded," Ned announces as he steals Peter's drink. "Did you fix Peter?"

She shrugs. "That or I broke him further. Can't tell yet."

Ned claps him on the shoulder and whispers, "MJ's better at Cluedo than you."

"She's a _goddamn cheat_ , Ned! There's no way she knew I had the library unless she -"

* * *

Two months pass like any other. There’s nothing awkward or shy between them, and they hang out just like they did before. In fact, if not for how incredible the whole night had been, he could almost forget the whole thing even happened.

On a Saturday night he asks if she’s up for a drink, and she agrees to meet him at Shaw’s. Ned tags along and they spend a great night drinking and laughing and enjoying time together.

It’s completely normal.

They head out to a club around the corner after midnight and Michelle bumps into a friend from the bar. He loses her to the stifling crowd and he chats with Ned at the bar for a bit before he ditches him for the girl winking at him from the other side of the room.

Peter finishes his drink, orders two more and slips between sweaty bodies until he finds her, already looking for him.

“Hey! You’re here!” Michelle throws an arm around his shoulders and accepts the glass he holds out to her. His fingers are cold with the condensation as they glide over the back of her hand.

“Ned left me to get laid.”

“Aw, babe, are you jealous?” 

“I’m drunk enough to be tired, so I need your help to fix that.” His lips brush her ear as he fights to be heard over the pounding bass, and Michelle pulls him closer, taking a large gulp of her gin and tonic.

“Thank you for coming to me with this issue.” Michelle’s teeth shine in the neon lights. “My recommendation is dancing. Come on, finish this and let’s go.”

Michelle's hand is sticky and warm as she tugs him to the edge of the dancefloor - he hates being too embedded in a crowd and the fact she remembers only raises his temperature further. 

The music is too mainstream for her to know and too poppy for him to usually tolerate but watching her move is distraction enough. She's not a big dancer, typically prefers a booth in a bar with a group of their friends, but after a few drinks she can let the music move her. It's just a gentle sway of her hips, her hands in the air or tapping out the beat on her thighs, but he's too many drinks in now to find her anything less than hypnotic.

His hand slips over the swell of her waist and her arm curls over his shoulder.

This is fine. This is normal. He dances with her all the time - not usually with such a lack of space, but it's still just dancing.

Michelle pokes him on the forehead, then the temple, then his nose.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to find your brain's off button." Michelle pokes him again right between the eyes and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Come on, Parker. Dance with me."

So he tightens his grip and pulls her against him, and their hips sway in unison as the song builds. She trails her jet black manicure down his bicep, her touch a smouldering flame even in the sweaty heat of the club. He can't look away from her eyes and he sees the moment she stops having fun and starts to realise what's building between them.

She takes his hand so she can lift his arm up, putting it back on her hip after she's completed a half turn. Her ass brushes against his groin and he can't resist tugging her back into his chest, her body flush against him. They move together and he gets lost in the sweet smell of her hair, the appealing expanse of her neck.

The fabric of her top is slippery and his fingers sneak beneath the hem for better grip.

He feels Michelle's lungs expand and retract as she sighs.

Side to side, they create a rhythm all of their own. Nothing else exists but the way their bodies stay perfectly in sync, even as her hand travels into his hair.

The thin strap of her top slips off her shoulder and his lips drop to take its place. He could spend the rest of the night tasting that little patch of skin, trying to find words adequate enough to describe it.

Michelle has other plans though.

She twirls until she can better grab him at the nape of his neck, their mouths only a fraction of an inch apart. "So this is how you want to play this?"

"That would imply this is a game." One of his hands gropes at her ass, the other splayed out against the small of her back.

Her hips tilt forward just enough to graze over where he's already half hard. "I already let you fuck me; my curiosity is sated."

Peter drags his gaze away from her lips, molten lava meeting the beautiful devastation of hers. "But are you satisfied?"

“'He that has satisfied his thirst turns his back on the well,'” she quotes.

"And?"

"I'm facing you, aren't I?" Her eyes drift closed, her breath wafting over his face. "Question is; what are you going to do about it?"

"You're so hot when you quote literature."

“'Impatience can cause wise people to do foolish things.'”

Peter impossibly tightens his grip around her. “'And no matter how eager you are for it, you cannot make the moon set nor rise any faster.'”

Michelle’s eyes pop open, stunned. "Did you just quote Holly Black at me?"

He nods, biting back a smirk.

It wouldn't have mattered - Michelle kisses him too quickly for her to have ever spotted it.

There is no build up like the first time - they jump straight into the part where her teeth tug at his lip and his tongue explores her mouth and she pulls at his clothing like they're not still in a very public place. If he were capable of thinking he'd hope that Ned had already gone home, but all he can manage is Michelle Michelle Michelle Michelle -

She pulls away abruptly, her lips swollen. "Do you wanna -"

"Fuck? Yes please."

They stumble out of the club like every potential one nightstand they've ever laughed at. She's too handsy for him to concentrate properly and it isn't until she crooks her finger in a silent encouragement to follow her that he remembers, blissfully, that she only lives four blocks away. 

That's a really long way when you're stupid with how turned on this girl is making you.

He presses her into the exterior of a two star hotel and licks his way down her throat, desperate to conduct a thorough comparison on if all her skin tastes the same. She claws at his back and scolds him breathlessly and only when some passing drunkards wolf-whistle at them does he reluctantly agree to move on, hiding his humour as she cusses them out in her damp hair.

They stop twice more, too hungry for each other.

When they finally make it to her door, she's barely got it unlocked before he sweeps her up into his arms, carrying her over the threshold as she holds him tight and kisses him fiercely.

"I can't believe we're doing this again," he says as he stumbles towards the kitchen, placing her against the kitchen counter so he can concentrate on exploring her chest.

She tugs her shirt over her head and pulls at the neck of his until he strips it from his overheated skin.

"Really? I assumed we'd end back here eventually. We are…" She sighs as his mouth wraps around her nipple. "We are very compatible."

"Is that a snooty way of saying you had fun last time?"

"Don't be cocky about it. Just get on with it." Her nails scratch painfully over his shoulder blades and he grunts against her sternum, numb fingers fiddling with the button of her jeans.

He's in no mood to drag this out. He wants to be inside her too badly.

"I need… I need -" Peter chokes on a breath as she palms him roughly. "Fuck, I can't focus when you do that."

Michelle tilts her head clinically. "Huh. You're really wound up already. Wanna just skip the foreplay?"

Peter's knees tremble and he presses his face to her breasts. "You are the best best friend in existence."

Michelle laughs and gently pushes him back until she can hop down from the counter, looping a finger into the waistband of his jeans. "Come on, let me take care of you."

Michelle leads him into the bedroom and makes quick work of the fastenings, pushing the denim down his hips. Once he takes over, she takes off the last of her clothing and lies down, her fingers idly slipping between her folds. He almost falls over watching her play with herself, testing how ready she is for him, humming when she brushes against her most sensitive spot.

Okay, so he's too desperate to drag this out.

But he'll watch her do that for hours on end.

Michelle glances away from her own hand to see him drooling, rolling her eyes fondly and gesturing to the condom box still on her nightstand. He is far too eager in his pursuit to secure the rubber around him, pumping his fist a few times as she dips a finger inside of herself, shifting down the pillows and holding it out for him.

Peter falls on top of her, sucking the digit hungrily into his mouth.

Her eyelids are heavy as she studies him. She widens her legs so he can settle between them, carding her free hand through his hair. "You okay on top?"

"I don't care how we do it as long as we're doing it."

She snorts. "How eloquent of you."

Peter kisses her, messy and soft and unfocused. He thrusts blindly forward, sliding over the dip of her entrance. "Are you ready?"

Michelle nods, smiling lazily. "Come on, tiger. I wanna feel you."

She's tight and wet and glorious as he enters her, trying to take his time as he moves in shallow motions so she can adjust. He's hyper-aware of hurting her because they've skipped over foreplay, but Michelle seems eager enough, locking her ankles against his back to encourage him further. She presses gentle kisses against his collarbone, and with all of that combined with her hands still in his hair, he could easily finish in the next ten thrusts.

He's too stubborn for that though. Giving Michelle a good time is the main outcome to strive for.

"Peter, I'm not going to break. Fuck me like you mean it."

He groans into her hair, snapping his hips forward with force. Michelle gasps and moans when he does it a second time, and he loses control, ramming into her with all the strength he can muster. She squeals and curls her body around him, like she needs to cling on for dear life as her headboard collides with the wall.

"Damnit, Peter," she manages between thrusts. "If I get a noise complaint…"

"I'll frame it," he mumbles against her temple, but he eases up anyway, sitting up straight to take in her long slender frame. She looks breath-taking like this, hands by her head as she throws it back when he grinds against her clit. Her back arches and he understands why shAe loves to draw. He'd spend years trying to paint this image onto a canvas in a way that did her justice.

She's stretched out just for him and he presses a hand just under her naval, holding her hips still as he moves inside of her hard and slow. 

"Michelle, fuck, I wish you could see how dangerous you are."

She opens her eyes only to squint at him. "Careful, there. You almost sound like you're catching feelings."

"I've known you were a dangerous woman since the moment I met you. Doesn't mean I have feelings for you."

Michelle chews on her lip, watching him carefully until she's satisfied. She wriggles her hips to encourage him to pick up his pace again, and he hooks his hands around her thighs so he can tug her up, fucking down into her at a quickening pace. She grabs his arms and sinks in her nails as she holds on, whining in the back of her throat, his thumb skittering over her clit.

"Shit, Peter, I need more."

He rolls his hips with more gusto. "More what?"

"Touch me… More. Stop holding back." He presses his thumb harder and she tries to move herself against it, but the way he's holding her restricts her from moving. "Peter, I wanna be on top. I can't do shit like this."

He chuckles and rolls them over, and Michelle happily settles over his body to kiss him, building them slowly back up. Her hands roam his chest and he smooths his palm over the curve of her ass, fingers teasing the skin of her inner thighs.

She rubs against him but it's not enough - he wants to be inside her again. She seems perfectly happy just kissing him and exploring, and when she tweaks his nipple he ruts helplessly against her, making a high pitched noise of desperation that would probably embarrass him if he wasn't so wrapped up in the moment.

Michelle finally breaks away from his mouth to kiss a path to his ear. "You're sloppy when you're drunk," she says lightly. "So clearly I'm going to need to do most of the legwork here."

"I'm not sloppy," he says indignantly.

"I've known you for a while now, Peter. You've always been a sloppy drunk. Just didn't realise that would translate into the bedroom - thinking about too many things at once, wanting everything immediately, trying too hard to do something you're already good at. Just relax into it, get lost in the moment."

He glares up at her. “You’re the worst.”

“I know.” She smirks and straightens up, rolling her hips. “You love it.”

His fingers flex against the tops of her thighs and she gives a pointed look, her silence speaking volumes until he forces himself to take a deep breath, relaxing into the mattress. 

“You ready?” she asks when she’s content with his ability to control himself. He nods eagerly and she sinks back down until he’s buried deep within her. He groans at the feeling, his nerves on fire everywhere she touches him; a palm to support her on his stomach, her legs straddling his hips, her breasts against his wandering hands. 

She moves at her own pace, eyes slipping shut as she loses herself in the moment. He’s transfixed by the way her body moves, how her bones shift beneath her skin, the tightening of her muscles as she lifts herself up only to crash back down, a soft sound from the back of her throat ricocheting through him until he’s a sweaty, panting mess completely at her mercy. 

His hands work separately from his brain, trailing over whatever curve and line takes their fancy. Missing out on the action, his mouth revolts by talking utter nonsense, something a lot like, “You feel amazing,” or, “Faster, _please_.”

Her walls flutter blissfully around him, tugging his gaze from the bounce of her chest to the tantalising view of her teeth biting into her bottom lip. 

“Touch me,” she says as she grabs at his hand groping her ass. “Peter, I’m - Do something more useful.”

“Like touch you?” He snaps his hips up as she bears down, eliciting a delighted yelp from her despite the way she claws at the hand that refuses to let go. 

“Don’t be a dick.” She loses her rhythm as he meets her thrust once more, falling further forward until her loose hair tickles his chest.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Peter!” she snaps as he fights her for control, an arm wrapping around her waist to trap her in place. “If I wasn’t about to -“

His fingers roll across her nipple and she whines. “There? Is that where you want me?”

“ _No_ , stop pissing me off.” 

His hand slips over the taut skin of her ass until he can feel the stretch of her opening around him. “Here?”

“You know I’ll finish myself off, right? I don’t - I don’t need you.”

He smirks, propping himself up on one elbow so he can whisper, “You don’t need me where?”

She leans closer to his face, the thrill of a challenge battling the lust that weighs heavily on her eyes. “Touch my clit or I’ll tell May about what you really got up to Junior year.”

He balks at the threat but manages to sustain his wherewithal enough to say snobbily, “Actually, the scientific and therefore correct name is ‘love button.’”

“Oh my _God_ , Peter!” She pushes at his face with disgust as he starts to shake with laughter. “How am I friends with you?”

He shrugs through his chuckle, his humour only decreasing as he realises the jostling has made her breath catch, eyes creasing as they close.

His fingers slip into the space between them, finding her clit with ease. He just rests it there but it’s enough to make her fix him with a smouldering look, and as she discovers their rhythm again, he matches her speed until she’s quivering as she rocks against him. She moans his name and it’s almost enough to end him, but he grits his teeth and presses harder, faster, until -

Her orgasm reverberates through him as they topple over the edge together. Her arms give way and she falls heavily against his chest, their hips somehow managing a few more synchronised motions until they’re both spent. 

“I hate you,” she mutters into his neck. She pats his chest and rolls off to the side, chest still heaving as she fights to catch her breath. “That was great but… I hate you.”

“You were great, I was great… we’re both great.” He holds up his hand. “Up top.”

She looks at his hand with pure disgust. “I can’t believe you’ve ruined it. Again.”

“I think by now you know to expect this of me.” His grin is far too toothy for her to successfully suppress the humour that threatens to spill into her expression. 

The orgasm probably helped, but he’ll take what he can. 

“It’s _gross_.” She rolls her eyes and high-fives him. “That felt disgusting. Tell anyone and I really will blab to May.”

“This is why Ned doesn’t tell you secrets, you know. You’re so quick to blackmail.”

“Ned tells me everything. He’s a classic oversharer - and besides, he doesn’t do anything to warrant blackmailing.” She’s half-way to standing when she pauses, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “You haven’t… He doesn’t know…”

“That we had sex? Fuck no.”

“Good.” 

She stands up with a wince, stretching out her sore legs and looking down at the mess between them. He smirks, tying up the condom and tugging his boxers back up his legs. When he turns around, it’s just in time to see her eyes skittering away from his ass. 

“Think we’ll regret this in the morning?” she asks nonchalantly. 

“Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol,” he sings, earning him a middle finger as she searches for her underwear. He sighs. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry. It’s why I’ve always got snacks in the fridge.”

“ _Hell_ yeah.” He skips to the threshold of the bedroom, casting one last look her way before running to say, “I call dibs on the Reese’s ice cream!”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, don’t you _dare -_ “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry I had to.
> 
> If I get ONE COMMENT about Cluedo I’m deleting the next chapter (coughReneecough)  
> (That’s mostly aimed at her feel free to sound off about Americans calling it the wrong name)
> 
> @mjonesing on Tumblr as always


	3. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost something VERY different less than 24 hours ago but nope. I have an outline and a schedule and I WILL NOT LET YOU DOWN.
> 
> Special thanks once again to the babe that is @michellesbohh for the validation I might one day accept; probably a few minutes after you accept my validation of you <3

Michelle wakes up with an ache in her head and a pain in her back.

She groans as the late morning sun beats down onto her through the window, rolling over to duck her head beneath the covers. 

Except there’s something else there.

Her eyes blink open to the remains of a well-after-midnight feast, the TV on standby and, on the floor below, a drooling Peter.

The night rushes back in a mess of laughter, alcohol and hot palms. That feeling in her stomach when you’ve laughed too much; the brush of Peter’s skin against her fingers, her neck, her thighs; the aftermath with whatever they could manage from her empty cupboards, stretching out in their underwear as they quoted every line of Shrek until he laughed so hard he fell off the couch, passing out shortly after with a hiccup and a smile. 

Michelle gingerly picks up the blanket loosely thrown over both their bodies. Her cheapest black underwear stands out in stark contrast to her skin. Over the edge of the cushion she can just make out the navy blue fabric that twists over Peter’s ass.

Damnit.

Slipping out of the warmth and comfort the blanket had once provided, she tiptoes over his sleeping form and heads straight to the bathroom, collecting painkillers and her emerald robe. The sink is still a mess of lipstick tubes and hair pins from her rush to be on time last night, and she tries to focus on clearing up with slow, deliberate movements. Maybe if she can manage that, she won’t have to relive the way she draped herself over his body as she whispered in his ear, or how he begged so beautifully as she writhed above him.

Their shirts still lay discarded on the kitchen floor, and she nudges them out of the way with her toe to fill a glass with water while the coffee brews. The liquid is the perfect balm for her scratchy throat, and the smell of caffeine is enough to perk her up enough to start preparing peanut butter and banana toast. It’s his favourite, but it was her favourite first.

Next is tea. She needs all of the tea. 

As the water hits that sweet spot - right before the boil, just the way tea should be made - she inhales the steam greedily, like somehow the heat will kill off the memory of his body against hers in the club, or the way his eyes flashed with something primal as he called her a dangerous woman.

She doesn’t know exactly what that means, but she does know it makes her a little weak in the knees - which is not at all how she should be feeling about her best friend.

And that’s what he is; his is a friendship she treasures so dearly, one that made something inside of her click into place the moment he first laughed at her complete decimation of their professor’s view on Eastern European politics.

Michelle tries not to think of a time before she had Peter in her life. While she was never unhappy before him, the light he shines into every dark corner of her soul has been a life change she never knew she needed.

And of course, with Peter, she gained Ned - possibly her most favourite friend in all the world.

She did better at college with friends to ease the toll of studying. She found other like-minded people who understood her in ways she spent most of high school sure only existed in the pages of her books. She opened up to a new realm of possibilities that she hadn’t known existed in the quiet little bubble she had been so content with before. 

Loving Peter and Ned means loving amazing things - like dinner and drinks with truly decent people; watching lightning split the sky with a cosy blanket as laughter warms your insides; buying that ridiculous fridge magnet just because you know it’ll make someone smile - and also loving the stupid things, like video games and bad movies and trying to find out how many onion rings it takes to chase away the hangover sitting heavy in all of your bones.

But now here they are, five years and a few unexpected orgasms later, standing on a precipice she can’t bear for them to fall off, trying to figure out if she’s about to break her best friend’s heart.

The tray clatters as her hands struggle to support the weight of her fixings. She barely makes it to the coffee table without spilling peppermint tea all over her hastily made breakfast. 

Peter is stirring at her feet. She bends down next to his head and boops him right on the nose. 

“Whatsatha?” Peter wafts at her hand, half asleep and unable to function. She rolls her eyes, flicking the tip of his ear. 

“Wake up, loser. I have coffee.”

“Coffee? Did you say coffee?” Peter rubs at his eyes, then startles when he finally spots her peering down at him, chewing on her bottom lip. ”MJ? What… What time is it?”

“Late. You’re going to want this.” She holds out two pills and the last of her water which he gratefully accepts, groaning as he sits up to take them. The blanket slips off his bare chest and he pats over his torso in confusion. She grimaces. “It’s in the kitchen. On the floor. Where you left it… Next to mine.”

“Oh.” He pales. “ _Oh_.”

She swaps out the empty glass for a hot cup of coffee. “Yup.”

“Do… do we need to talk about it?”

“Probably.” She sighs, folding her legs beneath her so she’s more comfortable. “Don’t need another Parker Freak-Out on our hands.”

He glares playfully over the rim of his mug. “Harsh. Also fair.”

“I know I disregarded your concern last time but I hope you know… You’re my best friend, Peter,” she says into the murky depths of her tea, free hand rubbing the satin edge of her robe. “I would never want to do anything to jeopardise that. If this is too much -“

His hand wraps softly around her fidgeting fingers. “Hey, MJ. After this long I thought you’d know by now… You’re stuck with me. No matter what. Best friends first and forever.”

She presses her lips together against the watery smile threatening to take over her face. “Did you just call us BFFs? What are we, twelve?”

Peter chuckles. “Maybe twelve year olds are smarter than they look.”

The pair settle against the sofa, Michelle leaning into Peter’s side until he wraps an arm around her shoulder. His chest is warm against her cheek and she can hear the steady beat of his heart. “So we agree - nothing is going to change?”

“Of course not.” He tightens his grip, his lips skimming over her forehead. “This was just a… a casual stress-reliever. Right?”

She traces the edge of her cup with a finger, readying herself for the potential damage she’s about to inflict. “Right. We’re compatible, obviously, but… I don’t have feelings for you.”

“Neither do I.”

She looks up to meet his eyes, exhaling in relief when she sees they’re clear and open. “So we agree this is just a bit of fun? Nothing to worry about?”

“Best friends.” He smiles and presses his forehead to hers. “First and forever.”

* * *

She clings to that, lets it reassure her. Peter is her best friend - one of the most important people in her life. He isn't going anywhere, no matter what they do or say, no matter what they get up under the influence of alcohol.

Peter is her best friend.

Except she wakes up for the third time in a week in a sweat, her pyjama shorts damp as her hips rut against the air, her head full of memories of the way Peter bites his lip before he comes, how his fingers fit inside of her, or the flush of his chest as she explores his skin.

Her vibrator's never seen so much action in such a short amount of time.

She's pretty sure best friends aren't supposed to do that.

It doesn't help that he's gotten a little… Handsy with her. A brush of his knuckles against her arm. A lingering touch against the back of her hand. A squeeze of her knee as he laughs at something dumb Ned says. Individually, each can be disregarded as nothing but friendly behaviour. 

But together? They're driving her crazy.

It crescendos the night she crashes through the door of Peter and Ned's apartment, worn out from three days straight of grad school work with an armful of movie night snacks, Her presence surprises the pair in hour four of a videogame she can never remember the name of, her spare key jingling from its precarious position on the tip of her little finger.

"Hey!" Peter protests as she plucks the controller right out of his hands, dumping her provisions into his lap and wriggling into the space between them, flawlessly picking up right where he left off.

"Finally, some actual competition." Ned's grin is wicked but he still leans towards her, bumping his chin into her shoulder in greeting without taking his eyes off the screen. "You made it out of Study Mountain in one piece, I see."

"Barely." She frowns as she concentrates, taking out four bad guys in practised motions. She kicks out weakly to her other side when she hears a delighted coo from Peter, ripping open a packet of gummy bears enthusiastically. "Eat my bears and feel my wrath."

"I would never touch the green bears," Peter solemnly vows, undercut by the rainbow of shredded carcasses stuffed into his mouth.

“Come on, Leeds, Peter was so far behind and I’m already pummeling you! Where’s the competition?”

Ned nudges her with his elbow, a move she’s well rehearsed in counteracting. “You talk a big game for someone who didn’t win a single race on Mario Kart last week.”

Michelle growls under her breath. “Just because I don’t have enough free time to actually practise playing these stupid games. Seriously, Flash can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m buying his shitty ‘beginner’s luck’ excuse. Who plays their first game of Mario Kart at twenty-five?!”

“You were twenty-four,” Peter supplies unhelpfully, shovelling more candy into his mouth.

”I had better things to do with my time before I met you two. And why do you smell weird?” she asks in between executing an impressive triple kill shot.

“He had a date but they bailed,” Ned answers as Peter somehow manages to pout around his feast, drool dribbling down his chin from the effort.

“No wonder if those are your table manners.” Michelle crinkles her nose. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love me,” he says with a grin, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

“I only associated with you for access to Ned.” Michelle leans into Ned, turning to smell his shirt. “You smell nice.”

“I was also bailed on.” Ned sighs, resting his head on her shoulder as they complete the level. “Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Club.”

“Speak for yourself, my heart is just fine. My stomach isn’t, though. Where are the crackers?”

Peter throws her the box and spreads himself out in the little room she’s left him, kicking his feet up over her lap and into Ned’s. “Is this the first time we’ve all been single since we met? I can’t remember the last time it was really just the three of us for movie night.”

Michelle snatches the forgotten beer bottle from the table, taking a long sip before responding. “That wouldn’t be an issue if you guys would stop forcing people on me to befriend.”

“Hey! That’s how you met me!” Ned objects, hand pausing in its mission to steal Peter’s chips.

Michelle pokes Peter just below the ribs to distract him, enough that Ned successfully pulls off the heist. Peter flinches, lips somehow quirking up and down at the same time as Michelle helps herself to her cut of the prize.

“And you’re _perfect._ Should have quit while I was ahead.” 

Ned’s answering smile is soft and gooey like a good chocolate chip cookie. He curls back around her with a content little purr and she pretends not to notice him stealing two of her precious few bears.

Peter looks particularly grumpy on her other side. “I don’t know why you insist on being so nice to Ned when you’re horrible to me, but I’m not okay with it. I have seniority.”

“By two weeks!” Michelle argues as Ned says, “Knowing someone the longest doesn’t mean you know them best.”

“I think you’ll find I know MJ a _lot_ better than -“ Peter is cut off by her fist in his side, widening her eyes in a way that makes him shrink back and bite his tongue.

“I’d have met MJ anyway, even without you intervening. We had that ceramics class together.”

“You only took that class because you already knew each other.”

“We did that play together senior year,” MIchelle supplies, then laughs. “Remember the guy with -“

“- half an eyebrow?” Ned joins in with her laughter. “When he said -“

“- That still makes me cringe! Ah, I loved that guy. Wonder what he’s up to now.”

“He moved to Denver, last I heard. I think he’s marrying Becky with the yellow glasses.”

“Really?” Michelle gasps, dropping the gummy bear before it can enter her mouth. “Why?! After he -“

“- I don’t get it either, but then she always did like the weird ones. Remember she dated Squash for a few months?”

Peter’s head bounces between them as they converse, jaw slack with confusion. “Are you guys just making this up? Who are you even talking about?”

They both glance his way, Ned with an eye roll and Michelle with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t remember Squash?” she asks. 

“Dude… After everything you guys went through…” Ned shakes his head, covering his face with a hand. “Why are we friends with him again?”

“I told you; it was just to get to you. Can’t seem to get rid of him now, though.”

“We could just run away together. I hear France is nice this time of year.”

“Is that far enough, though? We should really start looking off-world.”

“Guys, I’m _right here_.”

* * *

They fall asleep in a heap of half-empty packets and limbs, the TV flickering to stand-by as the clock ticks over to three in the morning.

Michelle wakes to the first signs of the dawn, overheating as she clings to the body beneath her. There’s a groan from somewhere nearby and she almost yelps when she discovers the position she’s in - Peter serving as both her pillow and mattress, her leg thrown over his waist as she grinds against his thigh.

This is _definitely_ not the position she remembers drifting off in.

“Shit, shit. Shit!” She’s so panicked that her limbs lock around him, unable to find a way of extracting herself without mortification. How the hell is she supposed to explain accidentally dry-humping Peter to him?!

She shifts and there’s the sound again. It’s low and deep and vibrates through her shirt in a way that makes her toes curl. Swallowing the fear sitting heavy on her chest, she forces herself to look up.

Peter’s dark eyes stare back at her, pupils blown wide.

“Did you just have a sex dream on top of me?” he whispers with a sly smile. Her mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words that will somehow get her out of this. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before.”

“Fuck off, Parker,” she bites back, using the excuse of shoving at his chest to tactfully remove her hips from the equation. 

Except Peter’s grip around her tightens, fingertips digging into the flesh of her ass. “I didn’t say you had to stop.”

Her breath lodges in her throat, the very hint of his touch and his words making her whine as blood rushes south. 

The first finger of his free hand presses against her lips, then points to their sleeping friend splayed out on the armchair behind her. A soft snore escapes Ned’s lips and, like he’s stuffed an ice cube down her shirt, the fog of her arousal clears and she hisses out a, “Peter! Don’t be gross!”

“I’m comfy,” he whispers back with a shrug, the promise of a challenge shining in his eyes. “What, Jones; you scared?”

“I am _not_ having sex with you when our best friend is five feet away.”

“Who said anything about sex?” Peter’s hand burns up her back, sliding beneath her shirt until he pauses where the fastening of her bra should be. She can barely draw in a breath as he flexes the muscles of his thigh, brushing against the crotch of her leggings until he twitches just right and drags the seam over where she wants him most.

“Peter,” she starts, ready to stand her ground when he whips it right out from beneath her with a stroke of his thumb against the curve of her breast. 

“It’s okay,” he breathes into her ear as he mouths down her neck. “It’s just a bit of stress relief.”

His hand continues its exploration of her chest, her eyes slipping closed with the first pass over her nipple. Peter seems perfectly content to tease her and, after a week falling short of satisfaction with her own handiwork, any touch is good enough for her raging hormones.

“First and forever?” she asks, a rare flash of indecision colouring her tone even as she presses herself ever closer. 

Peter’s smile against her skin is answer enough. 

She tilts her hips forward and curls her leg tighter so on his next pass the friction delights a little more. His hand engulfs her breast now, squeezing and rubbing and pinching until she’s arching into his touch with a sigh, lost to the heady yearning for more of him; his touch; his talented fingers as they edge closer to her waistband.

When he finally makes contact with her wet core, she’s so overwhelmed by the differing pleasure inputs that she has to press her face into his shoulder, the soft cotton of his shirt muffling the noise that slips past her defences. Michelle’s got a vice grip of the neckline as she moves against his fingers, torn between letting him deliciously rub one out like she knows he’s capable of dragging from her - or fighting the arm still pinning her against him so she can take his long fingers inside of her and ride him to her sweet end.

Peter tilts up her chin until he can slip his tongue into her mouth, kissing her without abandon, like she’s his first drop of water after spending too long parched. Her fingers slide into his hair as he moves into tight little circles, swallowing every whimper and sigh before they can disturb the hush he strives so desperately to maintain. 

She trembles against him. It only encourages him to increase his pace. 

His heavy exhale is damp against her cheek as he speaks. “So hot, Michelle. Can’t believe you’re just using me like this.”

“Well I - I have to find some use for you - now I already have Ned.” 

Her orgasm is fast approaching in record time and she could sob with the effort to mute herself against the rush. Peter must feel the wild twitching of her hips because he almost moans into her hair, letting her take over the pace without ever completely halting his movements.

“You gonna be quiet for me?” His lips brush hers, her little pants of breath as she fights for control spoiling her ability to properly kiss him. She hesitates but nods; she’s got years of late-night masturbating experience when she had a roommate, and really, where’s the difference here?

He presses his hand harder against her and she sees sparks.

“Peter, fuck, I’m -“ Her nails sink into the firm muscles of his arm and she buries her face into his neck, biting down on his collarbone as she hits her peak. The couch squeaks with her full body shiver and Peter acts quickly to roll them so she’s trapped between the sofa back and his body, tempering her movements as his fingers gently ease her back to Earth.

His smile is far too smug when she finally pulls back from the rather impressive love bite she’s imprinted into his skin. Despite that, he’s so gentle with extracting his hand from inside her leggings that she can’t help but to crash her mouth against his, the smouldering remains of her arousal beginning to burn again with the way he squeezes her hips as she grazes her teeth against his lip.

“Up, up!” She pushes against his shoulders, tearing herself away from his mouth. He looks adorable flustered and confused and if not for Ned’s snoring as their background music, she’d give in right now and fuck him right here on the couch she helped them carry up from the street. “Bedroom!”

Peter opens his mouth, probably to tell her some bullshit about not needing to return the favour, but she’s not interested in that; her vagina now runs this show, and what it wants is Peter inside of her.

_“Now.”_

Peter stops functioning for about three seconds. She makes a mental note of how pretty the flush across his cheeks looks in the early morning light, how his jaw is slack, how he holds her so tight she can feel the restricted blood flow. 

So he likes bossy, huh? Interesting.

She pushes him again and suddenly he’s full of a frenetic energy, almost tumbling backwards in his haste. She darts forward to grab the plate he knocks off the coffee table, barely saving it from a noisy and shattered end. Ned snorts, but is otherwise, somehow, not disturbed.

Peter drags her by the hand into his room, her back hitting the wall with a resounding thud. She huffs out a laugh and tucks her thumbs into her waistband, wriggling the tight fabric down her legs until she uses her feet to help her out - there’s nothing remotely sexy about the action but Peter almost crumbles to the ground watching her, his sweatpants already creasing at his knees. Before she’s even finished he’s collecting her in his arms, twisting her hips until she allows him to manipulate her into his desired position; palms flat against the wall, back arched as he tugs experimentally at her hair, his knee spreading her legs until he’s teasing her entrance. 

His hands cover hers as he begins to move inside of her, kissing down her throat, across her shoulder - anywhere that he can reach as he takes his time. She quivers as his teeth brush against her pulse. His hips snap forward in eager response. 

Still, he is almost leisurely in his lazy rhythm, something that drives her increasingly mad. Unfortunately this only seems to encourage him, until she can no longer hold back her strung-out retort. 

“We don’t have time for this,” she complains when he resists her third attempt to speed things up. Peter just cups her cheek to turn her towards him, kissing her languidly until she feels him breakout in a smile. 

Oh, that little _shit_.

“Are you done?” she asks with too little bite, distracted by the drag of him pulling out only to slam into her with a shuddering force. 

“I can’t help it. You’re so easy to wind up.” He grabs her hips and runs a hand up her spine on his next thrust, pushing down gently until she bends over and presses her cheek against the cool paint, desperately holding back her moan as he finally fucks her like she needs. 

It’s the first time she’s been completely sober for this and she can feel it in the precision of his movements, every flutter of her walls around him. She curls her fingers as she resists changing the position just so she can explore him properly. This feels too good to risk losing their thundering momentum. 

It doesn’t take long once he gets a hand beneath her, picking up his earlier pace against her sensitive clit. She squeezes around him and his face buries itself between her shoulder blades, his groan resonating through her bones. He rams into her without abandon and right as she reaches the pinnacle, he tugs her back to swallow down the shout of his name with his lips.

He’s still moving inside her even as she begins to recover, arms the only support for her overstimulated body. The tension in his muscles reveals how close he is, and her head lolls back as she arches her back and whispers in his ear, “Let go, Peter. Come for me.”

He stutters, hands lost up her shirt. It grinds him against her and her knees almost give way completely, but her aftershock seems to be just what he needs because the next thing she knows, he’s panting her name into her hair as he pulses deep inside of her. 

It’s only in the afterglow that she notices what was missing, her head pillowed against his stomach as they catch their breath on his bed.

“We forgot the condom,” she announces, glancing to where he stretches out above her.

“Shit.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “We’ll go to the pharmacy in a bit. The one around the corner opens pretty early, and there’s a decent bakery down the block. In case we need an alibi.”

“Ned definitely deserves cinnamon buns for sleeping through that.”

There’s the distinct clatter of teaspoons against china from the other room.

“Or… maybe not?”

The pair look at each other, cringing at the thought of their not-particularly quiet sex alerting Ned to the goings on they’ve been so keen to keep hidden. 

Sure enough, when they finally bring themselves to leave Peter’s room, Ned is glaring at them over two cups of coffee and a steaming mug of tea.

He can't be that mad if he's used the good loose leaf stuff... right?

Ned crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh! Hey, guys. So uh… What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh.
> 
> (I'm so sorry, Ned. Please forgive me.)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and feelings. It makes me so very happy.
> 
> @mjonesing on Tumblr as always.


	4. Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. This chapter is nearly two months late. Apologies and I hope you enjoy! It got... out of hand. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my boo @michellesboh

Why he expected this to go any other way, he has no idea. It was always inevitable that Peter would have to be the one to deal with the fallout. 

He's still glaring at the door Michelle had promptly exited through moments before, sending him an honest-to-God finger gun alongside a faint, "You have seniority!" before the door slammed behind her. 

Ned's foot taps impatiently against the floor. "What the hell, Peter? You slept with MJ?! Are you really so desperate to ruin all of our lives?"

He’s got two choices: the first being to tell the truth. He has no idea what he’s doing, is  _ definitely  _ in the process of losing his mind, and he’s so incredibly sorry for kind of seducing Michelle while Ned was sleeping just a few feet away.

Shit. Hopefully Ned is only aware of what happened after that.

The second - the lie - is what Peter gravitates to. He’s never outright lied to Ned before, doesn’t know how capable Ned is of detecting them from his best friend of many years, but if ever it was worth a shot, now is the time to do it. 

“It’s not a big deal, Ned. Calm down.” Peter gives him a stern look when Ned’s jaw drops like he’s about to start screeching his next words. “It’s just a bit of fun between two consenting adults.”

“You are - Wait, wait,” Ned says with a frantic wave of his hands. “Are you saying this has happened before?”

Peter focuses hard on suppressing a blush. “Maybe.”

“How long for?!”

“It’s not a regular thing, the time frame doesn’t matter. But, uh, that was the third time.”

“The  _ third?! _ ” Ned falls back in his chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he goes through a complex array of emotions in half a second. “I knew you were keeping something from me but  _ this  _ \- this I did not see coming.”

“It’s not a big deal, dude.” 

“Peter, I love you, but you are so fucking dumb if that’s really what you believe.” Ned leans across the table, initial shock giving way to a startling level of concern as he rests a hand on top of Peter’s. “This isn’t some nobody from the bar you’re hooking up with. It’s  _ MJ. _ She’s special and important and - and  _ family _ .”

“Ew, Ned -“

“I mean it, Peter. What are we without her? You can’t fuck around with someone as crucial to our lives as she is. You’re not just playing with fire - you’re trapped in the middle of a goddamn blaze because you thought the light was pretty.” 

Peter squints. “That was a weird analogy.”

“Am I wrong, though?” 

Ned folds his arms, any humour that Peter thought he could drag from him locked firmly behind his worried expression. Peter’s knee bounces beneath the table and he tries to temper it by weighing it down with the other one. Ned’s eyes fall to his neck, where his movement has shifted his hastily thrown on shirt to reveal the blossoming bruise Michelle gave him an hour ago. 

Quietly, Ned asks, “How much did you really think this all through?”

Peter sighs, glancing to the messy kitchen behind his friend, remnants of a night that feels like years ago scattered across the sides. 

“She told me about what happened at Betty’s party a few months back. I didn’t remember - I thought… It was a vague memory that was probably just a dream but then she told me and - and she proposed this stupid idea to -“

“So you admit this is a stupid idea?” Ned presses his lips closed when Peter glares at the interruption, muttering a quick, “Sorry. Continue.”

“She thought we’d be ’compatible.’ Wanted to run an experiment. She left me in the coffee shop to think it over and… I mean, come on, dude. It’s  _ MJ _ . She’d laid out the whole thing in under five minutes and I was convinced in the first two. I spent a few days trying to talk myself out of it, was pretty close to succeeding - I went over to politely turn her down but then - she opened the door in that stupid hoodie - you know the one, with the green ink stains from senior year? - and I forgot all the reasons to say no.”

Ned blows a long breath out of his nose, running a hand over his tired eyes. “Shit, Peter. Are you - are you in love with her?”

Peter scoffs. “Please. Like I have to be in love with MJ to have sex with her.”

“I’ve known you for nearly fifteen years, Peter. You have never once had a casual relationship. There are  _ always  _ feelings.”

“This is different, Ned. MJ is our best friend.” Peter tries to tone down the defensiveness in his tone, knowing it won’t help to placate Ned. “We both agreed this didn’t mean anything. It’s… it’s like when we normally hang out. We both just happen to be naked.”

Ned wrinkles his nose, no doubt shaking his head free of the thought of his friends without clothes on. “That is the worst thing you’ve ever said.”

“Really? Worse than the time you got me drunk on schnapps and we got locked in that closet with Mona and her Wiccan friends?”

“Yup.”

“What about when we were sixteen and Flash dared me to -“

“That wasn’t even that bad, Peter. You’re just embarrassed still that Liz believed you.”

“What about when you drove me home after having my wisdom teeth removed and I told you about -“

Ned pales. “Okay. Fine. That is the worst. But this was a very close second!”

Peter smirks in his little victory. 

“You’re trying to distract me and it won’t work.” Ned closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “So… So you and MJ are what, friends with benefits?”

“She expressly stated that we are definitely not that. Spent half an hour refuting it, in fact.”

“Seems like that is exactly what you are. Which is so fucking dumb. Have you never seen the movie Friends with Benefits?!"

“Many times. It’s one of your favourites.”

“Because it’s adorable.  _ This _ ,” Ned says with a general wave in his direction, “This is not adorable. It’s gross. And wrong. Without question, it’s going to end badly. No good will come of this, my friend. It stinks of bad juju -“

“I get it. You think it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s a  _ terrible  _ idea!” Ned chews on his lip for a moment. “I wonder who’ll get me in the divorce.”

They catch each other’s gaze, and with a definitive nod, they both say, “MJ.”

* * *

Michelle returns after a very long hour, arms full of coffee that costs too much, an array of Ned’s favourites from the little bakery across the street, and a little paper bag with the local pharmacy’s logo stamped on the front. 

Without a word, Michelle deposits the treats onto the worn wooden top of the kitchen table, ruffling both boys’ hair as she continues into the kitchen. To Peter’s relief, the bag goes straight into the trash - the last thing he needs after his tense conversation with Ned earlier is for Michelle to let slip their indiscretion earlier - except when she turns around there’s a pack of condoms in her hand that she throws directly at his chest, where they bounce off his sternum and land directly in the middle of the table.

“Figured you were out,” she says with a barely contained smirk, definitely aware she’s making it worse.

Ned looks at the offending box over the top of his laptop with such disgust, Peter’s surprised it doesn’t burst into flames. 

Michelle falls into the seat beside Ned and kicks her feet up onto the side of his chair, a sweet smelling tea already in her hands. “I’ve got a couple of hours to kill before I go to work. Anyone up for Mario Kart?”

Ned slams the lid of his laptop down, promptly forgetting about the Very Important Work he’d been ranting about ten minutes prior. “ _ Hell _ yes. I think I’ve finally sussed out that corner in Rainbow Road and you, my mortal enemy, are going to be dethroned once more.”

Michelle snorts, slapping weakly at his pointing finger. “Doubt it.”

Snatching the delicious smelling bag of treats before Ned can demolish them, Peter grins and relaxes. Everything’s back to normal, just as it should be. 

* * *

Absolutely nothing is normal - he has no idea what normal even is anymore. 

Michelle disappears for two weeks, throwing herself into her grad work with a ferocity he’s never seen before. She uses up a couple of sick days at the bar, and every time he tries to call her, she texts him back a few hours later with a vague,  _ can’t right now, maybe later? _

Ned catches him moping in the living room one night and doesn’t spare him the knowing look, the one that screams  _ I told you so.  _ Peter flips him off, except the gesture is not his to make, and it makes him sad all over again. 

It’s fine. He’s allowed to miss her; she’s his friend, a constant in his life, as frequent in his day to day as a rushed breakfast and a trip to the store on the way home because he forgot to buy milk again during his weekly supply run. 

Ever since they met five years ago, they clicked in a way Peter hasn’t experienced outside of his solid friendship with Ned. They understand each other without even trying, similar in some ways but their differences contrasting in a great way, like two puzzle pieces that were made to be connected. 

Just because Ned bought up the L word does  _ not  _ mean it has to ring true; Peter loves Michelle, yes, but he's by no means  _ in _ love with her. He knows what love feels like, has experienced it a few times over the years in varying states - grew up surrounded by it with his Aunt and Uncle, so fiercely in love after so long together. Peter and Michelle are nothing like that. They’re just good friends, and he blames When Harry Met Sally entirely for the universal belief that men and women cannot be friends without involving anything romantic. 

Peter huffs out a despondent breath and drags himself up from his horizontal position. From beside him, he picks up his phone and reinstalls his dating apps. 

He’ll show Ned just how casual he can be. 

* * *

Peter meets Alex for a drink the next evening. 

They date for six weeks. 

Ned has never been more smug, and it drives Peter so mad that he puts an abrupt end to the relationship and sleeps on Michelle’s sofa for three nights to avoid him. 

He’s finally kicked out and sent home with a sore back and a sad heart. Ned greets him at the door, pulling him into a fierce hug for several minutes, the joint apologies going unsaid but understood. 

* * *

It's 1am when his phone alerts him to the simple text of,  _ are you awake? _

Immediately followed by,  _ of course you are. Let me in. _

When he buzzes her up and opens the door, Michelle's jaw is tense and she sweeps past him without a word. 

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?" He follows her into the living space when she tugs at the sleeve of her jacket, pulling it off to reveal a slinky top that pairs nicely with her faded black jeans. "I thought you had a date tonight?"

"I did." She kicks off her shoes under the coffee table and reaches for him before reconsidering. "I need to brush my teeth."

She rushes into the bathroom and Peter is left in the wake of her hurricane. To busy himself he straightens the cushions on the sofa, fluffing them unnecessarily, restacking the mismatched stack of books on the coffee table when she still hasn't reappeared. As he wipes at the oily fingerprints on the remote he hears the shower turn on. It only worsens the spike of dread in his gut.

Fifteen minutes later Michelle reappears, wrapped in his robe and her hair tied haphazardly atop her head. He stands immediately from the sofa and hurries to her side. "What's going on? You're worrying me."

"Aw, Peter, you don't need to be concerned," she says, cupping his cheek. "I'm all good now."

"You gotta fill in some blanks here," he says seriously, "You walk in here in the middle of the night and before you can do anything you need to get clean? I've had twenty minutes too long to consider the possibilities."

"I'm fine, I promise." She smiles and it settles him just a little bit, but then she pulls a disgusted face. "Joey was just… Not satisfactory."

"Was he boring? I told you he sounded boring." He takes the hand still touching his face and pulls her to the sofa, ready to settle into one of their usual date breakdowns.

"Not boring - at least not to converse with. He was actually pretty sweet, asking my opinion on things and really listening to it." She lays back against the arm and kicks her feet up so they drape across his lap. The action causes the robe to slip open just enough that he can see a large amount of her upper thigh. "But then he took me home and… Ugh. His moves were uninspired."

"Oh." Peter nods slowly, kneeding his thumb into the arch of her foot. A sigh escapes her lips and she extends her leg to push harder against his hand. "So when you say he wasn't satisfactory, you mean -"

" _ I'm _ not satisfied."

He quirks an eyebrow. "And you're here because you want me to… Satisfy you?"

"No, just to talk." Her gaze flickers away tellingly.

"Oh my God, you are! Is that I am to you, Jones? A shortcut to a good orgasm?"

She crosses her arms, glaring at him from the other end of the sofa. "Bold of you to assume they're good."

"My assumption is based on hard evidence and your previous testimonials."

Her bottom lip disappears as she chews on it, his hands pausing in their work across her foot. The air between them begins to heat up as they both silently contemplate it. It’s been a few weeks since his breakup with Alex and he’s yet to venture back out, Ned’s proven assumption still whispering in the back of his mind. But Michelle is different; he knows where he stands with her, can settle into the lust of it all without worrying. If she’s interested - if she’s asking - then he has no reason to say no. Especially when it’s a rare night alone in the apartment. 

Her eyes sweep down his chest and linger on the low rise of his grey sweatpants. He feels himself twitch with interest and curses his brain for the highlight reel it now seems to be playing, Michelle's breathy moans echoing in his ears.

"You really want to do this?" 

She's nodding before he's even finished the question. "Do you?"

His hand trails up her calf to her knee, gently pressing them open. She's completely bare beneath the robe and he almost dies on the spot, easing himself closer until he's sitting in the space between her legs, his firm touch sliding over the still damp skin of her inner thighs.

He tugs at the loose knot holding the robe closed and the fabric slides to rest at her sides, exposing the long line of her body to his hungry eyes.

"You don't need to be a tease, Peter. I've had enough of that."

He looks up at her disapprovingly through his eyelashes, focusing back on the task at hand. As his fingertips trail over her hipbones, he realises how strange this should be; not so long ago another man had been here and failed to understand the ways she likes to be touched, and now here is her best friend, already drawing that whine from the back of her throat as he traces the imprint left behind by the lacy underwear she must have been wearing before.

How Joey had not understood the gift that is being able to bring this woman to climax is beyond him. He's salivating at just the thought of tasting her.

He stares at how she glistens in the overhead light for just a moment, before sinking a finger deep into her heat.

Her hips twitch as she sighs, and he slides it out only to push in a second.

"Peter, please." She bucks into his hand as he presses his palm against her, pushing up so he can hover over her, mouthing a wet path up her chest. Her clit grazes his palm and she gasps. With ferocity, she grabs his hair and tugs him further up her body until she can crash her mouth against him, kissing him ravenously as he goes from agonisingly slow to a complete stop.

Michelle moves beneath him, trying to find relief as he concentrates on exploring her mouth.

She pushes against the waistband of his sweatpants with her heels until she can wrap a sure hand around him, pumping off-rhythm as it spurs him to move his hand inside her again, fast and hard so he bumps her clit with every thrust.

"Fuck, Peter, that feels so good." She moans in his ear and picks up her own pace, a touch too rough but he can't bring himself to stop her as she grazes her teeth across the pulse point in his neck.

He grunts and curls his fingers, and she releases him to sink her nails into the forearm trapped between them.

"Will you touch yourself?" His voice is husky and wrecked as he sighs the request into her ear. "I wanna watch you get off while you fuck yourself on my fingers."

Her answering moan is delirious and he leans back on his heels to watch her reach blindly between her legs. Instead of going for where she needs friction the most, she slips a fingertip in alongside his own and he almost comes just from the feel of her finger wedged inside of her against his own.

He wraps his remaining fingers around her hand so he can move them in and out in unison, and she almost sobs around his name as it falls from her lips three times.

"Come on, Michelle, almost there." He reaches up and rolls her nipple with his thumb. As her back arches into the touch, her other hand squeezes into the tiny space left between her thighs and she rubs furiously at her clit, just as he's learned she likes it before climaxing.

"Peter, I'm - I'm almost - Need -"

"What do you need? Tell me and it's yours."

She hiccups over her words but he manages to make out, "Mouth," so he leans down and vacuums his lips around the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, just a hint of teeth until she goes rigid beneath him. He gets a delightfully up close view of the orgasm, ricocheting from the gorgeous mess of hands to vibrate through her bones. 

"Peter, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't - Don't stop." She continues her brutal assault and she withdraws the finger inside of her to pull hard at his hair, trapping him against her with the clamp of her thighs as she rides his fingers straight to a second climax.

Only when she's spent and boneless does he ease himself to a stop, flicking his tongue softly against her lips until he's licked her clean. She twitches with the after shocks and he slides up her body to kiss her deeply.

"How was that?" he asks smugly when he pulls away. She lazily encircles his neck with her arms, a gooey glaze to her eyes as she looks up at him.

"You're way too good at that." She slides her hands down until she fist the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. "Can I blow you?"

Just the question forces his hips against hers, his cock skimming over her so she whimpers even as he shakes his head. "You don't need to, MJ, this wasn't -"

"Don't be stupid, Peter. It's the least I can do for barging in here and asking you to finish the job." She presses against his chest and pushes him until she's upright, swapping their positions so she's crouched between his legs, idly playing with the waistband of his sweatpants that still sit just above his knees. "Plus I want to. Please?"

And the look she gives him - eyes wide and pleading, her bottom lip sticking out as it lowers towards his crotch - how can he possibly say no to her?

Michelle’s breath is already hot against his skin by the time he finds his words, only for the agreement to shapeshift into a drawn out groan when her tongue presses confidently against his cock and licks from base to tip. Peter’s elbows buckle when she opens her mouth and instantly takes him as far as she can. His head hits the cushion beneath him. Damn, how have they never done this before? He’s addicted before he even hits the back of her throat. 

Feeling her lips quirk up in a smug smirk, Peter tries to find an ounce of control, but all he can manage is a few hiccuped breaths as she finds a rhythm that pleases her. The sensation of her mouth wrapped around him is too much, entirely different from the feel of being inside of her, but it’s glorious and wipes his brain clean of rational thought. 

He almost sobs when she introduces her warm fingers into the mix, nails scraping over the slant of his hips before beginning a gentle exploration of his inner thighs. 

“Michelle, I can’t - Fuck, you feel so good.” Peter’s thumb strokes over her jaw and she preens at the praise, eyes sparkling as she captures him with her gaze. Catching his hand where it lingers, she moves it to the back of her head and he chuckles breathlessly. Only when his fingers tangle in her curls does she relinquish her grasp, returning her focus to the pace she had previously set. 

“Remind me to get Joey’s number from you later,” Peter blurts out when her gaze becomes too intense. She raises a single eyebrow in question. “I owe him one, for fucking up earlier.”

She hums through her amusement and he moans, grip tightening around her hair until she whines around him and sucks harder, faster, laving at him until he’s a quivering mess beneath her, on the brink of a much-needed release. 

She lifts herself up to smile at whatever expression lingers on his face. Her lips are flushed a rosy red that triggers a mindless thrust of his hips into the hand wrapped loosely around him. 

“You’re so pretty like this, you know.”

“Like… like what?”

“Wanting. Desperate. Powerless.” She kisses his tip softly with each adjective. 

“You think I’m cute?”

“Day-to-day Peter always reminds me of a puppy; puppies are cute. This Peter…” She frowns, brain whirring enough to distract her from her task, idly crawling up his body until she can better see his face. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, almost a whisper. “Dare I say that this Peter is beautiful?”

Air lodged in his throat, Peter barely manages to say, “I think you just did.”

Michelle leans down to kiss him, slow and sensual and enough to drive him out of his mind. Their bare chests brush as the kiss becomes insistent, his hands moulding to the curve of her waist as her fingers delve into his hair. 

“How pissed would Ned be if we fucked on the sofa?” she asks when she breaks away, humour warping her tone. 

“Less than he would if we fucked in his armchair.”

“Tempting.” Michelle’s hand runs down his chest, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she considers it. “I think we may have been mean enough to the poor man last time.”

“You’re right, as always. Sofa it is.”

Michelle rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I meant your bedroom. Gotta get up for a condom anyway.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Peter sighs reluctantly as Michelle climbs off of him, though he can’t help his gaze drifting to her ass as it sways with her walk towards his room. 

“You coming?” she calls over her shoulder. 

Peter almost tumbles off the sofa in his haste to follow. “God, I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @mjonesing on Tumblr as always

**Author's Note:**

> I have more if you want it? If not, let’s just pretend this doesn’t exist.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave your opinions below, and come scream at me on tumblr @mjonesing. I have a serious headcanon about Peter calling MJ ‘Michelle’ while they’re intimate and it needs discussing.


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